


Staring into the Abyss

by trimalchio



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Letters, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 18:00:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1697399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trimalchio/pseuds/trimalchio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karim Benzema gets philosophical over breakfast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Staring into the Abyss

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a prompt at Football Kink 2: http://footballkink2.livejournal.com/10208.html?thread=5591264#t5591264
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Dear Pipita,

I think I saw your face in a bowl of shredded wheat this morning.

I know I'm not really a good communicator, but that's in any language, not just Spanish. I should probably try to call you or text you or whatever more often, but I only got inspiration for whatever I am going to say from my breakfast.

I don't know if it's a compliment, to be an inspiration for mild artistic expression, when I have visions of you in breakfast foods. Do you think Jesus takes it as a compliment when people see His image in toast? Or do you think He prefers His visage in paint or marble? I don't know. As a Muslim, I don't think I've got a very firm opinion on that, since our prophet can't really be depicted that way. I think I'd prefer a pizza, if I were to have a choice, in that kind of appearance. I really like pizza and I don't think there is a person on the planet who dislikes every single kind of pizza that exists. There's even pizza for weirdos who like ham and pineapple on it. Or that pizza that I saw on the Internet that had edible gold on it. That just seemed like a waste of a good crust.

How is pizza in Italy? Strangely, I've never had a pizza in Italy. Or maybe it's not strange, I don't know. Is pizza popular in Italy? I've heard it is, so I kind of assumed that everyone just eats it all the time. I didn't know France was known for its garlic, until I saw a television show, where all of the French characters wore strands of garlic around their necks, like necklaces. I have no opinion on French garlic, so I suppose Italian pizza could be that in reverse and you might have no opinion on Italian pizza. How is Italy, just in general? In a general sense? How would you sum up Italy? I would sum up Spain, as “temperamental” or maybe just “mental.” At least, you know now that nothing has changed for me, in that sense.

I think other stuff has changed, though. Well, clearly, other stuff has changed. Everyone's having babies or getting naked on magazines or growing beards, but that's normal progression. Time is marching on, as old people say. Or at least, as my grandma says. I know I've gotten older, but I still feel the same. I still eat cereal every day for breakfast. I still don't have a coffee table. I still don't think I've had a profound conversation ever.

I remember, when you were my roommate, when we went for away games, you were really funny. Even at first, when I didn't know Spanish, you were always very funny. I liked sharing a room with you, so please know that I miss you. I don't know if we ever had a profound conversation, but I enjoyed our conversations, at least, so for me, that could probably count as profound. The other day, Xabi was telling us about profound words he had heard during a Coldplay song, but I tuned him out and played Candy Crush Saga. I think it was really something, since Illarra and Dani Carvajal both covered their faces, trying not to show they were crying. I don't actually know if they were crying or asleep, but they might have been crying. I remember one time, you and I were supposed to be asleep, but instead we played Tic-Tac-Toe for four hours straight. I don't know what protracted that game out for so long, I just remember laughing so much that when I told my brother the next day, he said I was crazy. It was probably one of those things that in the moment was perfect, but outside of it was kind of lame. It's weird. I think of how funny I thought you were, but I can't remember what exactly you said. Memory's kind of funny that way. Not funny, in the sense of how funny I thought you were, but funny in the sense that it's weird. Maybe I should have said, “memory's kind of weird that way” instead. Oh well, I wrote it down already and I don't feel like crossing it out.

Do you think we'll ever share a hotel room again, even though it'd be kind of weird to? And talk about absolutely nothing at all and be okay with that? We can even play a game, but we don't have to play Tic-Tac-Toe. Maybe we could play Pictionary. I'm not a very good artist, but then again, I've heard the same about Picasso and look at where he is. I don't mean dead. I mean, his stuff is hanging in museums.

My grandma told me that France was an artists' country. I don't know if that applies to me, since I don't really understand art. Or at least, I don't think I do. Maybe it's because I'm Algerian, too, instead of completely and thoroughly French. One time, when I was in New York City, I went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art and in one part of the museum, they had a pile of candies. You were allowed to take a piece of candy, but you had to throw out the wrappers in a specific trash can and you couldn't take two and you weren't allowed to take pictures of the pile. I thought it was just a weird American tradition, so I took a whole handful, until I noticed they looked like the candy that old ladies put in their candy jars for a couple of years at a time that they all must buy at the same old lady store. Anyway, the guard yelled at me and I had to put most of the candies back. I hid two up my sleeve anyway. To make a point, I think. I don't know what the point was. I don't even know why a pile of old lady candies is a piece of art. If you understand it, please let me know. Sometimes thinking about that pile keeps me up at night because I don't get it. There were people all standing around the pile, looking at it and nodding, like they got it, so there must be something to get. I've already tried googling it. I searched “pile of candy” and I get back is images of little fat American kids on Halloween. If you were there, you'd have probably said something funny. I don't know what you would've said (obviously, you never said it), but I probably would have laughed anyway.

I don't think it really matter the specifics of anything, but rather the overall thing, if that makes any sense. I'm really not a good communicator. I miss the general sense of you, rather than the specific sense of you. I miss you, as a whole, rather than just the funny things you said that escape me now.

I don't even know why I wrote this letter. I just wanted to let you know about your face in my bowl of cereal, but now I've elaborated on most of my opinions on everything.

Love,  
Karim Benzema.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
